


Even Clones Have Their Fears

by Cyrus_The_Virus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Dehumanization, Dissociation, Eugenics, Gen, Slow To Update, Trans Character, Trans Clones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24102244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrus_The_Virus/pseuds/Cyrus_The_Virus
Summary: Every clone fears the penal battalions. The GAR doesn't have time for lengthy trials or prison sentences. Its solution is entire battalions of clones who have committed crimes or been accused of them.Penal battalions exist to have 'defective' clones killed as cannon fodder.CC-6966 is the commander of one such battalion.He hates it.Inspired by this post: https://meridiansdominoes.tumblr.com/post/616966282707976192/penal-battalions
Relationships: CT-2224 | Cody & Original Character(s), CT-7567 | Rex & Original Clone Trooper Character(s), Original Clone Trooper Character(s) & Original Clone Trooper Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

Clone commander CC-6966 hated his battalion. Or more correctly, his general.

Jedi general Axum Cor, master Jedi, huge asshole. CC-6966 hates the person with a passion. Then again, CC-6966 hates most things about his life. 

CC-6966 was made with most other command clones. His batchmates were either decommissioned early because of behavioral issues or assigned to penal battalions like CC-6966. 

He had a passion for the stars and history. His batchmates often teased him lightheartedly about it before the first Geonosian campaign. 

After the war started, he and his batchmates closed off from each other. CC-6969 had been killed during the initial battle, leaving his battalion, the 501st, without a clone commander. CC-6970, Rancor, would have been the next to be selected for the 501st battalion, but he had been decommissioned soon after news of 6969’s death found his ears and he rampaged. 6966’s batchmates, clone commanders 6960 to 6970, had always had problems with aggression. 

By the time of the first battle of the war, only 6966 and four others remained from their original squad. 

6966 is often asked why he hasn’t chosen a name yet. It’s three months into the war, he’s on the older side since he’s a commander, yet he doesn’t have a name yet. Most of his troopers are shinies, fresh off the Kaminoan assembly block. Some of his troopers are from other battalions, serving time in a penal battalion for crimes they’ve committed. 6966 doesn’t ask them about their crimes, they don’t ask about his too-sharp teeth or the feral mind behind his eyes. 

In the 498th Penal Battalion of the Grand Army of the Republic, troopers learn quickly not to comment on their commander’s behavior or attitude.

When 6966 answers the question of his name, he does so rarely. He views it similarly to gender. He will find it sooner or later. 6966 is no stranger to gender confusion, most clones are the same as him. 

6966 never really understood gender, but the longnecks were insistent on him sticking with his assigned one. He followed their orders on that regard, CC-6961, Bone, had been decommissioned for saying she had no gender and would prefer female pronouns. 6966 and his batchmates never talked about how she disappeared the next day, called away by a longneck for additional training. 

6966 would prefer taking his fallen brother’s command over the 501st than his heartbreaking cannon fodder battalion.

Sometimes, the endless sea of white armored brothers is too much. Brothers without names, brothers with batchmates to return to, brothers with no one but scorn, all dead and piled on the ground by blaster bolts and artillery.

-

“CC-6966 to the bridge. Repeat, CC-6966 to the bridge,” a clone drones over the ship’s speakers. 

6966 looks up from his bland rations and growls quietly. This had been the first time he’d been able to sit down and eat in a week. 

Angrily, he slams his utensils down on his tray. 

“Nobody touches this,” he commands to the brothers in the commissary. The brothers he sat with nod and pull his tray closer to themselves. 6966 nods at them and strides to the door. 

6966 prowls through the halls of the ship. His brothers move out of his way, even with no clear way of knowing it’s him outside of body language. In the 498th, everybody wears white, regardless of command structure.

6966 reaches the bridge and steps through the threshold.

General Cor doesn’t acknowledge his presence. To the general, all clones are alike unless they show otherwise. 

“General.”

General Cor straightens from their bent posture over a holo-map.

“Trooper, did CC-6966 arrive?” they ask, tone airy and far away.

6966 represses a snarl.

“Yes, general. You wanted to speak to me?”

The Jedi turns around, extravagant robes billowing around them.

“Lovely, lovely. Come here, commander. I need you to point out strategic positions on this map for me.”

6966 grunts and moves next to the Jedi. Almost immediately, he makes note of a potential stranglehold. He points at the area, bringing the Jedi’s attention to it.

“Ahh, yes, yes. That could be worrisome if the Separatists stay set up there,” they mutter. Absentmindedly, the Jedi rubs the hair on the back of their arm, a nervous tick.

  
“I suppose, it’s a good thing that the Council is sending us to get the Separatists softened up for the 205th battalion. Commander, get the troops ready. We begin ground assault in three cycles.”

With their order given, Cor turns around and ignores 6966. 

The other clones on the bridge glance at the fuming commander. 

6966 walks over to the brother in charge of the speaker system. The brother hands him a microphone without a word.

“This is CC-6966, all troopers be advised that our next campaign is in three cycles. A full briefing will be provided to squad sergeants. 6966, out.”

He hands the microphone back to the brother and storms out of the bridge back to the commissary. He’s going to have that sit down meal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws for the chapter: death

The campaign starts out fine. The battalion advances towards the position they were assigned to. 

CC-6966 sighs under his helmet. He stands beside the Jedi on an outcropping. 

He flips his antenna down, his visor’s HUD giving way to specialized binocular vision. 

“The battle droids are clustered around the stranglehold.”

He turns to the Jedi. No response.

“Orders, sir?” he prompts. 

“Full frontal assault,” Cor says, tone light and joyful.

6966 stiffens. He knows this is what his battalion is for, but it doesn’t stop it from hurting every time he watches his vod’e march to their deaths.

“Did you have something you wanted to say, CC-6966?” the general asks, voice dripping with hidden malice.

“No sir,” he grits out.

“As I thought. Inform the battalion.”

6966 clenches his jaw and stalks away. 

-

The battle, if you can call it that, starts. 

The clankers bombard the battalion with artillery shells and blaster bolts. 6966 hates watching his vod’e fall with every boom and shot. He’s safe, far behind the front lines with General Cor. He’s too valuable to be thrown into a battle. So instead, he watches with his binocs-antenna down.

A brother falls, scream cut short. A squad, decimated by a shell. 6966 can barely watch, but he has to. Who else will remember his brothers’ deaths if the only one able to watch them looks away?

Silently, a tear fights its way down his face.

-

6966 doesn’t have much contact with the troopers around him. He tends to distance himself from them. 

Currently, a squad of shinies, they inform him that they’re delta squad, is asking him questions. Their sergeant watches silently from the back as the boldest one, CT-8961, asks question after question. 6966 does his best to answer what he can, but he does so without any real interest or emotion. He knows most of this squad, if not all of it, is going to die during the next campaign.

“Sir, have you ever met a commando? An ARC?” 8961 enthusiastically asks. 

“I am an ARC, trooper. As for commandos, I met a squad of them briefly before we were deployed to Geonosis,” he tells his younger brother. 

He watches with detached interest as the shiny gasps and begins thinking up questions in that brain of his.

He cuts off the shiny’s question with his own.

“Do any of you have names?”

The squad exchanges a look between themselves. 

The sergeant steps forward, brushing his batchmates aside to stand in front of their commander.

“Some of us do, sir. I am Hack,” he says, tone confident. 6966 nods and turns towards the rest of the shiny squad.

CT-8961 squeaks, gaining 6966’s attention. 

“Hm?” 

“Ahh, uh, well, you see sir, my name’s Rat. The trainers thought I acted too much like a rat and called me it and it stuck,” the trooper nervously states. 

Another shiny starts speaking, saving his batchmate from 6966’s undivided attention.

“I don’t have one yet, sir. I hope to get one soon,” CT-8963 says. 6966 nods.

The rest of delta squad seems to get a boost of courage, each one stepping forwarding to eagerly share their name or lack of one. 6966 nods at each brother.

“Get to your barracks, troopers. I expect great things from you. Good luck on our next campaign if I don’t see you before we deploy,” he tells them. 

“Sir!” the squad says in unison, saluting him. He waves a hand and strides away.

A pit of uncomfortable emotion writhes in his stomach. He hates meeting new shinies, especially ones without names. Yet he continues to do so. He is their commander, they look to him for guidance and hope. 

Every clone assigned to the 498th knows that they’re cannon fodder for other battalions. 6966 tries to help mitigate the crushing despair amongst his men. Knowing you’re meant to be killed like cattle doesn’t lend oneself to happy thoughts.

Deep down, 6966 knows he doesn’t do much in helping them. He drives his brothers away more often than he reassures them. It doesn’t stop it from hurting though. 

He sits alone in his specialized room aboard the  _ Venator _ class ship. The room is empty of anything personal except for a datapad. The silence is oppressive, yet he ignores it.

He misses his batchmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notes on the shinies:  
> delta squad will most likely play a larger part in the story, maybe as a specialized squad given to the Jedi padawan that will be introduced next chapter
> 
> delta squad has 10 members, 9 regular troopers and one sergeant, their numbers are 8960-8969, currently only four of them have names
> 
> delta squad was assigned to the 498th because of disobedience issues, the trainers and kaminoans thought a stint in a penal battalion would shape them up
> 
> some of the shiny squads from kamino given to the 498th are assigned to it as a punishment, most of them are just there to fill the battalion


	3. Chapter 3

General Cor has a padawan now. CC-6966 doesn’t know how to feel about the Cathar kid. 

6966 isn’t quite sure how the general managed to get a padawan in the three hours on Coruscant they weren’t near the clone. He’d ask the kid, but the Cathar avoids him and the other clones. 

That’s not favorable. 6966 needs to be sure of those on his ship and in his battalion, regardless of if they’re a Jedi or clone. 

He finds himself on the bridge. It’s the middle of the third shift, General Cor’s long since left for their room. 

The highest-ranking officer other than himself walks over to greet him.

“Commander.”

6966 strides over to the window at the front of the bridge. The other clone follows him, well-tuned to his commander’s mannerisms.

“Tell me, Lieutenant, what do you think of our general’s padawan? Commander Sharth, was it?” 6966 asks. 

He has his helmet in his arms. The lieutenant’s eyes go wide at the question. 6966 doesn’t look away from the window. He only spares a side glance at the lieutenant.

“General Cor’s padawan is very timid. I’m not sure if the general took them on wholeheartedly. I don’t think Commander Sharth likes our appointment as a penal battalion.”

6966 hums quietly. He turns to his brother, CL-5623, or Jango as he named himself.

“Lieutenant Jango, page the young commander to the bridge. I need to speak with them.”

“Sir!” Lt. Jango salutes. 6966 turns back to the window.

He crosses his hands behind his back, lightly gripping the white helmet in his left hand.

6966 is… he wouldn’t say fond of Lt. Jango. He enjoys talking with the lieutenant, as much as he can enjoy talking with a dead man walking that is. Then again, every clone in the 498th is a dead man walking. 

6966 thinks over when he first met Lt. Jango. 

CC clones were first introduced to the lower-ranking CL clones early on. The longnecks informed them that they would need to have a good relationship with their lieutenants to work effectively. 

6966 was around five years old when he met Lt. Jango. The lieutenant was a year younger. CC clones were made first after all. 

When the first Geonosian campaign ended, Jango Fett was dead. Lt. Jango had informed 6966 that he took their templates name because he had pushed him out of the way of a blaster bolt once. A blaster bolt from a trainer during a training session on hand to hand, not blasters. 

6966 remembers how everyone in earshot of the pair had recoiled. Not many clones were ballsy enough to claim the name of a trainer, let alone their template’s name. 6966 liked Lt. Jango.

Lt. Jango was originally meant for the 501st, but after CC-6969 had died he was caught in the rush to fold soldiers into other battalions before news of General Skywalker’s knighting reached the longnecks. The lieutenant chose to stay in the penal battalion instead of returning to his original battalion. 

The door to the bridge opens with a swish. 

“Jedi on deck!” a brother calls out. 

“Oh, uh, at ease?” a quiet voice calls out nervously. 6966 doesn’t turn around.

“I was paged to, uh, talk with CC-6966?” the Cathar teen asks. 

6966 turns his head enough to glance at the padawan.

Commander Sharth notices him and hurries over.

“Pardon me, but are you CC-6966?”

He nods sharply, motioning for them to stand next to him.

“Do you know why I had you paged here?” he asks.

“Ahh, no? Did I do something wrong? Master Cor hasn’t instructed me to do anything yet so I assumed I could wander the halls.”

He turns fully towards the Jedi padawan. He stares at them, looking them up and down. Flowing mane, golden-brown fur, sharp eyes and twitching whiskers. He watches them start to fidget under his hard gaze.

“I wanted to have a talk with you, Commander Sharth,” he finally states. 

The Cathar perks up. 

“You can, ahh, call me Harsa. I’m no commander,” they tell him.

He raises an eyebrow. Annoyance briefly flits through his mind.

“You  _ are _ a commander. You best get used to it soon, our next deployment you’re being given a squad to command.”

Commander Sharth’s eyes go wide. 6966 muses for a quick second that the pupils look like Rancor’s did. 

“I can’t lead- can’t lead a squad! I’m only thirteen I don’t have any experience! I only got my lightsaber a few months ago!” they yell. 

6966 feels his face go flat. Anger and annoyance at the Jedi make his shoulders stiffen slightly.

“Commander, I myself am on the older side of the GAR. I’m only ten years old. You are already older than the first clones ever made. Now then, I didn’t bring you here to lecture you on clone aging. I wanted to talk to you about your avoidance of clones. Explain,” he orders.

The Cathar nervously sways from foot to foot.

“Well?”   
  
“I don’t… I don’t like how every clone feels in the Force. No offense meant! But you always feel so closed off and- and scared and desperate. I don’t like it, it makes me feel like I’m in a nightmare,” Sharth says. They’ve hunched in on themself. 

“Hmm, nothing I can do about it, commander. This is a penal battalion, we’re all cannon fodder just waiting to be used. I suggest talking with the shinies, the squads from Kamino, they’re always more cheerful than the ones serving sentences. That’s all I had to say to you, you can go,” he waves them off and turns back to the window. 

Sharth doesn’t leave, just studies him.

“You’re very lonely, CC-6966. Maybe you should talk more with your men,” they comment. 

6966 whirls on his heel and snarls in their face. He’s taller than the feline Jedi, so he looms over them. His face is inches from theirs. 

“ _ Never. _ And I do mean  _ never _ assume to know me or my feelings. You are  _ dismissed,  _ Commander,” he growls. The Cathar nods their head furiously and trips over their feet in their haste off the bridge.

6966 pants furiously for a few seconds. The brothers around him warily watch his every movement. 

“What are you looking at?!” he shouts to the room. “Get back to work.”

Before Lt. Jango can stop him, he stalks out of the bridge. He heads to the training rooms, he needs to punch something until his hands are numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeaaaaaa boi, lieutenant jango and commander sharth are here!!!
> 
> i really wanted to have a clone named Jango and I figured hey why not introduce one, lieutenant jangos number has CL because he was originally bred to be a lieutenant, just like how 6966 has CC because he's a commander, unfortunately there arent many CL clones left, most having died during previous campaigns, the same for captains (whose number letters I've forgotten but will be using CA for)
> 
> as for commander sharth, I admittedly don't know a lot about the cathar as a species so most of what ill end up writing about them will be based off of my own ideas
> 
> and finally, the reason this chapter took a while to get out was because for this fic i like having a chapter written in advance and the fourth chapter was giving me some trouble so i didn't post this one until i had the fourth one finished, which is right before this will be posted lmao


	4. Chapter 4

Month four of the war starts with a surprise in the supplies given to the 498th during resupply on Kamino.

Paint. Specifically, paint fit for the plasteel armor the clones wear. There are two colors they’ve been given, blue and red. 

CC-6966 assembles as many of his brothers in the hangar as possible. Behind him, are the crates of paint.

The battalion mingles, tense shoulders and quick looks reflect just how they all feel about the surprise assembly. 

On 6966’s left is Commander Sharth, hanging back a bit. The Jedi watches the clones nervously. On 6966’s other side, Jango stands. The lieutenant’s face betrays nothing of his excitement at the armor paint.

6966 steps forward and clears his throat.

“Atten-shun!” he shouts. There’s a massive click as the gathered clones stand at attention in unison. 

“I’m sure you’ve been curious about why I’ve called you here. The higher-ups have been gracious enough to give us armor paint. Our battalion color will be purple. You will be given a certain amount of red and blue paint to customize your armor. Nothing obscene is allowed! If I see any of you with explicit images on your armor I’ll have you and your squad as the first wave during our next deployment! Before I start passing out the paint, there is one requirement. Every one of you must have an upside-down red triangle somewhere on your armor. You will be called by squad.”

He nods to Jango and both clone officers move over to the crates. The pair quickly open them and start divvying up the paint inside. 6966 leaves Jango to continue sorting and grabs the amount of paint a squad will need.

“Gundark squad, step forward,” he yells. 

Ten brothers cautiously step forward. He hands the paint to who he presumes is the sergeant and waves them off. 

This goes on until he reaches the last squad.

“Delta squad! Last but not least, come get your paint.”

Sergeant Hack herds his squad forward. Rat looks to be on the verge of vibrating through the floor. CT-8963 hangs back, observing his batchmates and commanding officers.

“It’s good to see you’ve survived your first month here. Good work vod’ikas,” he tells them, handing Hack the paint as he does so.

The squad turns to leave, 6966 watches them. Before Hack fully goes through the doors, 8963 spins on his heel and runs towards 6966 until he’s only a meter away.

“Trooper?” he asks.

8963 holds his arms stiffly at his side, his face scrunched with effort.

“Sir! I wanted to inform you that I chose a name!” he shouts, a bit loud for only being a meter away.

“Oh?” 6966 quirks an eyebrow.

“It’s Dogma, sir! I chose it after our last battle!” 

6966 gives him a tiny smile. 

“A strong name, vod! You wear it well,” he tells the younger clone. 

Dogma’s face lights up. He salutes and races back to his squad.

6966 chuckles quietly. Shinies finding their names is always a happy moment.

A hand claps onto his shoulder. He turns his head to find Jango smiling widely.

“An energetic vod’ika if I ever saw one,” Jango says. 6966 nods, Dogma really is energetic.

Out of the corner of 6966’s eye, he spots Commander Sharth slinking towards the exit.

“Commander, did you enjoy watching the assembly?” he calls out. The Cathar stops, turning to face the two clones. 

“Ahh, yes, I did. Thank you for allowing me to watch,” they yell back. 6966 nods and pulls Jango with him as they grab the last packets of paint. The padawan leaves the hangar without another word.

“What designs are you thinking of vod?” Jango asks. 

6966 grunts.

“Was thinking of a skull right under the crest on my bucket. Maybe some paint on the chest plate and braces? I know I’m putting my fallen batchmates numbers on my chest plate and the triangle on one of my pauldrons. What about you?”

Jango turns the paint over in his hands. He’s silent for a few minutes while he thinks.

“Probably try to mimic what our template had going on. Maybe even say ‘fuck Boba Fett lives’ on the back. Can you imagine how mad the little twerp’d be if he ever saw it?” Jango laughs. 6966 chuckles with him. 

6966 and Jango leave the hangar and split ways. He waves at the younger clone as he makes for his room.

-

It’s four and a half months into the war. 

Jedi General Axum Cor is getting on 6966’s last nerves. It’s not just him either, Commander Sharth and all of the vod’e are annoyed with the flighty humanoid. 6966 never bothered to learn what species General Cor is and he’s not going to bother. 

One good consequence of General Cor being a bastard is that the vod’e have grown closer to their Jedi Commander. 6966 would be lying if he didn’t say a weight lifted off his shoulders at the young Cathar openly engaging with the 498th.

The battalion is currently situated on a recently taken battlefield. A battlefield that the battalion had successfully taken from the droids. For the first time since the battalion first deployed, it had won without the help of another battalion. 

All around, clones are celebrating. 6966 pretends he doesn’t see contraband alcohol. He certainly does not have a bottle of Correllian brandy in his hand and he is certainly not dancing with Commander Sharth and Lieutenant Jango.

He laughs, pulling Jango and Commander Sharth behind him as he goes. 

“Ori’vod! Where are we going?” Jango asks loudly, stumbling over his feet a little.

“Yes, 6966, just where are you taking us?” Commander Sharth pipes up.

He turns around, smiling wide.

“Just follow me!” he shouts, picking up his pace. 

At his quickened pace, Jango lets go of his hand. Commander Sharth is panting heavily. Cathars aren’t built for endurance and speed like the vod’e.

He leads them to a rocky outcropping overlooking the celebrating battalion.

He steps up to the edge and spreads his arms wide. He smiles widely at them, closing his eyes in joy.

“We won! We won and we didn’t die!” he yells. 

Jango laughs breathlessly behind him. Commander Sharth collapses onto their knees, looking straight into the sky as their chest heaves. A smile curves their lips upwards.

“Ori’vod, you should address the battalion! Tell them we did it!” Jango says. He enthusiastically waves his arms about, drunk off the excitement, adrenaline, and alcohol. 6966 nods vigorously.

He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts.

“VOD’E! ATTENTION!” he screams. The party goes quiet, a furious roar becoming a faint buzzing. Troopers look up at their Commander and grin.

“VOD’E! WE DID IT! WE WON! A TOAST, TO ALL OUR FALLEN BROTHERS!” he shouts, lifting a bottle up. The troopers cheer.

“TO OUR FALLEN BROTHERS!” the battalion roars. 

He turns around, cheeks aching at just how hard he’s smiling. 

Commander Sharth laughs, motioning 6966 over to where they sit. He obliges, Jango following after.

“How’s your juice, Commander?” he asks. The Cathar chuckles, trailing off into a short purr.

“It’s good. I would have preferred some of what you guys are drinking though,” they chuckle.

6966 and Jango laugh at the joke.

“Commander, you’re our friend and we would do a lot for you, but I’m afraid that if we got you drunk the general would have us all court-marshaled,” Jango jokes. 

“That’s true. Master Cor may be a bit of a hardass and an incompetent teacher, but he wouldn’t take an inebriated padawan well,” Commander Sharth murmurs. 

“Where do you come from, Commander?” 6966 finds himself asking. 

“I don’t know. I was dropped off at the main temple shortly after I was born. My parents must not have wanted me, or couldn’t take care of me properly.”

Jango and 6966 sit quietly, taking in what was said.

“I guess… I guess that makes us similar,” 6966 says.

Commander Sharth looks at him, ears perked up quizically.

“How so?”

He laughs mirthlessly.

“Us clones don’t have parents, and you might as well not have them either.”

Commander Sharth snickers slightly before turning back to the night sky. They reach a hand up, pointing at the stars.

“You two see that pattern of stars?” 

Jango and 6966 follow the line of their finger. 6966 recognizes the pattern.

“That’s the Tooka Cluster. It was first found before the Ruusan Reformation and was originally named after a Sith lord. It was later renamed to the Tooka Cluster when the Sith Empire fell under,” 6966 recites.

There’s silence. Jango and Commander Sharth look at him weirdly. 

“What?” he asks awkwardly. 

“It’s nothing, vod,” Jango reassures.

The trio lapses into silence, gazing out into space. One of the  _ venators _ slides through the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont have much to say for this chapter
> 
> the dogma from delta squad is the same dogma from canon, i dont particularly care if he has a canon number or squad but i suppose him not having a definite squad in canon doesnt bode well for his batchmates
> 
> i added a new tag, its just the slow to update tag, ive not been writing a lot and ive definitely not been writing for already started wips when i constantly have new wips rattling around my brain
> 
> stay safe everyone

**Author's Note:**

> i really wanted to do something star wars related and I got inspired so we vibin
> 
> and yes 6966 has a name, he'll get it soon, and yes again I did choose the clone numbers this way because I'm immature lmao
> 
> cc-6969 would've named himself 'nice' if he had lived rip
> 
> Comments are appreciated!!


End file.
